Healing
by Cal reflector
Summary: Goodbye, Quincy, be well... I am glad to have see you one last time. Her free hand splayed gently against his chest, Nemu bent down, lowered her face to Ishida's, and kissed him. Collaborative work, link to lemon at end. Spiler post SS. Rerated to M.
1. Chapter 1: Healing

This story is dedicated to one **debbie-chan**, a great writer who I endeavor to emulate and learn more from. The dedication came with a catch however: I deliberately left out the ending and challenged Debbie-chan to finish it, which she did, and did a wonderful job on. The link to her part of the story, titled "Stay with Me," is inserted at the end, though readers should be warned that the rating for that part is M, since it contains explicit physical intimacy. As usual, Bleach belongs to Kubo Tate.

**Healing: An Ishida-Nemu Romance**

Ishida was slumped against the grimy walls of a dark, narrow alley, four to five street punks leering over his battered body. Blood ran from cuts in his lip down his chin, dripping onto and seeping his white shirt with crimson blotches. An ugly gash from a lead pipe on his forehead obscured the vision in his eyes; his glasses were dislodged early on, crushed beneath a boot heel. His immaculate school uniform was in tatters, torn in several places to reveal scrapes and bruises from the abuse he received. Wiping the sweat dripping from his face, one punk pressed his heel against Ishida's chest. "Goddamn prissy… and here I thought we had ourselves a momma's boy with easy money."

Clouded as his mind was, the Quincy's lips curved upwards at the thought of the three men he managed to floor before he was overpowered; he was still adjusting to the loss of his spiritual powers, and to apply Quincy spells on humans, even ones such as these, was out of the question. For his defiance, Ishida was kicked across the face by his assailant, and more blood spilled onto his uniform. "Some tough guy, huh. I'll fck that pretty face of yours up…"

Ishida didn't care. Since he lost his Quincy powers back in Soul Society, he didn't really care much about anything anymore. He stopped hanging out with Ichigo and the crew, avoided them at school, fearful that they would discover his secret, that he was now powerless; an invalid. He had lost his powers avenging the suffering wrought upon his people and his master, defending the honor of a woman against evil in its most nefarious manifestation… now there was nothing left: He had lost what was most important to him, and there was nothing left to take from him.

He imagined that the only thing worse that could happen to him now was if his friends saw him in this state, rescued him, _protected poor, hapless Ishida from being picked on by street punks._ The thought of the look of sadness--pity--that would be on Orihime's face cut him deeper than any of his wounds. "Inoue-san…"

Then, as his consciousness began to fade, he suddenly perceived through his weakened senses the distinct presence of reiatsu in the immediate vicinity. Eyes unable to open, he heard terror and confusion from his assailants, screaming and scampering of footsteps. _A hollow? Heh, what a way to go…beaten by gangsters, eaten by a hollow…_

But the emptying, terrible sensation of his soul being vanquished which he heard so much about never came. In the silence, as unconsciousness slowly overtook him, he felt the gentle touch of a hand against his face. _A human?_ Just before he fell completely into darkness, he felt himself being lifted by a pair of arms, and the rush of sudden movement.

The body that carried him was warm, soft, and had a nice scent. Ishida fell asleep.

-----

The world was a blur when his eyes blinked open. _My glasses…_ He could make out the outlines of a ceiling, that he was flat on his back, and that the slightest movement caused his body pain. Shifting his vision sideways, he caught sight of half-drawn curtains and the daylight outside a window. The view was familiar, _my apartment, but how..._

"You're awake."

Ishida's eyes widened, surprised at the presence of another in his room. _That voice… I've heard it before._ Struggling to raise his head, he saw a slender silhouette of a woman dressed in black. She carried a basin of something steaming in her hands and walked towards him, and it was not until she knelt down besides him that Ishida finally recognized her. "You're… Mayuri's…"

Kurotsuchi Nemu looked at Ishida, a faint smile appearing on her expressionless complexion. "You remembered."

-----

A minute later, after Nemu fetched him his spare set of glasses, Ishida found himself in a state of immobility, an unexpected visitor by his side, a million questions in his mind, and his body naked, uncovered but for his boxer shorts covering his most private parts. Presently, it was not his injuries or questions but his nakedness that concerned him the most. "Umm… Nemu-san… where are my clothes?"

Nemu dipped a towel into the basin of hot water by her side, rinsing it out before applying it onto Ishida's chest. "They were destroyed. I removed them so I could tend to your wounds."

Soothed by the warm, moist cloth that drew tenderly across the sore spots on his skin, Ishida felt himself relax under Nemu's ministration. Turning to observe the girl, he saw that she was still dressed in her dark vice-captain's uniform, the tight fabric and short cut clinging to her form and contrasting with the paleness of her skin. "Why are you here?"

Nemu rinsed the soiled towel in the basin and applied it to the wound on Ishida's forehead, causing him to wince until her fingers traced the spot and seemingly willed the pain away. "By Soul-Society's orders, I'm here to prepare as part of a larger build up to a deployment that will take place in the close future, and if the need should arise, participate as a healer in subsequent operations."

_Build up? Operations?_ "What is going on?"

Nemu's expression was stolid when she replied. "I have not been authorized to divulge details on the operation." Watching her with bewildered eyes, Ishida saw her stand up. "I am going to change the water."

When she returned, she resumed her kneeling position besides him, and pressed the hot towel against his upper thigh, drawing a sigh of relief from Ishida who relished the comforting sensations that emanated from her fingertips. _Maybe she's using demon arts…_ "I didn't know that Nemu-san had the abilities of a healer."

The shinigami placed her hand against a gash on the Quincy's thigh, and Ishida felt the throbbing pain ebb away as a warm glow appeared over the wound. "I was taught by the captain of the fourth division."

Ishida remembered the kind woman who had treated him and his comrades, _but that still didn't explain..._ "And Mayuri allowed this?"

Nemu turned her attention to the other leg. "In order for Mayuri-sama to promote artificial gitais as a viable solution to the shinigami's manpower shortage, he felt that I should learn a variety of demon arts, including healing techniques."

_That would be very like him,_ Ishida thought, _to use his… daughter as a promotional exhibit, a demonstrator for his sick technological prowess._ He looked at the impassiveness on Nemu's face as she concentrated on his injuries, and his heart went out to the girl, not knowing what sort of existence she must lead, a created being and lab subject to that monster…

_But she has a soul… a kinder, gentler soul than most humans._ "I think… being a healer suits you."

Her hands stopped. She lifted her head to look directly at him, and for a moment Ishida held his breath… until a smile appeared over her delicate features, a beautiful sight that warmed his heart and face alike as he found himself returning the smile. "Thank you. That's what captain Unohana said to me as well."

-----

It was late in the afternoon by the time she finished cleaning and dressing his wounds, and the sky outside had turned into brilliant shades of reds and oranges. Nemu told him that by tomorrow he would have recovered completely, and left some medical supplements and a pitcher of water by his bed. As he watched her clean up the room, he was seized by a number of emotions, a slew of desires as she prepared to leave him, back to Soul Society, back into the hands of that madman…

_I don't want her to go._

He watched as she knelt beside him for the last time, and his heart constricted when she framed his face with her hand, a look of contentment on her face. "I'll be taking my leave now, Quincy-san. Be well…" Closing her eyes, her free hand splayed gently against his chest, she bent down, lowered her face to the Quincy's, and kissed him.

Ishida's mind was a blur, lost, in the softness of Nemu's lips, the touch of her hands, the smell of her skin and the brush from the end of her braid that tickled his collarbone. When the kiss ended, he found himself breathing hard, and saw that her face was flushed as well, perhaps an illusion from the light of dusk which spilled into the room from behind her, coloring her fair skin. She was smiling at him, her face and body mere inches from his as she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "…I'm glad to have seen you one more time."

Ishida looked into her eyes, searching for that small trace of emotion, that betraying bit of human feeling which he knew had to be there… and then he found it; there, mirrored beneath the dark depths of her irises.

_Loneliness_

_Longing_

With an abruptness and energy that startled her, Ishida threw his bandaged right arm around Nemu's waist and pulled her onto himself and crushed his lips against hers, and this time when they kissed, it was with all the hunger and pent up passion of two lost individuals, he who lost his goal in life, she who might not have had one to begin with. When they broke apart for want of air, Ishida kept his hold on the girl, who was now sprawled on top of him, her breath short and her cheeks flushed pink; Ishida thought her ravishing. In a low voice hoarse with desire, he pleaded.

"Stay with me."

* * *

**To be continued... The following instructions lead to the lemon segment of the story contributed by Debbie-chan. It is very tastefully done, but still a lemon, so if you are uncomfortable with mature content, skip to the next chapter when it comes out.**

Go to the adult fanfiction site, search author "debbiechan" or search story "stay with me".


	2. Chapter 2: Dream and Reality

Author's Note: What had been an idea for a oneshot featuring a sad, romantic encounter between Ishida and Nemu has, with Debbiechan's gracious and excellent collaboration, grown into a full length story. Thanks once more to her for the inspiration. Bleach belongs to Kubo Tate. Slight **spoilers** for references to latest chapter of manga, chapter 206.

**Healing Chapter 2: Dreams and Reality**

Madarame Ikkaku was having a wonderful day.

Earlier that morning, in the cratered and broken field that was the eleventh division's training ground, he had an excellent workout with members of the small expeditionary force that was soon to be dispatched to the living world in anticipation of conflict with a new enemy—_a new, more powerful, enemy._ The prospect of lethal combat so excited Ikkaku that he didn't mind so much that Renji had been his only sparring partner, Matsumoto preferring to practice with her captain who knew when to hold back and Yumichika repulsed by the thought of breaking a sweat.

That was just the beginning however, because his day was about to get even better, so much that he even started humming as he headed to the courtyard that contained the portal to the living world. _Her assignment was four days long, so she should be back around now…_

Ikkaku was not disappointed: There in front of the gates, punctual to the minute, was the person he'd been waiting for. He jogged the last stretch across the stone paved courtyard to where she stood, reigning in his excitement so as to not break into a full-out sprint. "Nemu-san, welcome back!"

Nemu acknowledged the third-seat with a slight bow; even though she ranked above him, status and Mayuri's presence had not prevented Ikkaku from attempting to befriend her, something she found unusual but not at all unlikable, for even though she could not show it, the brash and energetic man's optimism and forwardness with his feelings was something she admired, qualities which she lacked entirely.

She did not see themselves as friends; no fault on his part, but Mayuri had seen to it so that she was incapable of such relationships.

The two of them talked as they walked side by side towards the twelfth division's headquarter. The conversation was one-sided, with Ikkaku doing most of the talking while Nemu responded occasionally and briefly, but this was the norm and Ikkaku was not bothered. "… and so Renji comes begging me to be a new captain, all groveling and subservient and shit, but I of course blow him off because paperwork's bad for ya. I mean, just look at the boy-wonder and how it's stunted his growth and turned his hair white! Not that the last part matters to me… but you know what I mean?"

The third-seat's eyes widened when, to his great delight and even greater surprise, Nemu nodded… _and smiled!_ He'd told her countless, funnier jokes before, but never has she responded this way; he was tremendously intrigued. "Say, did something happen over there? You seem… different."

For a split second a startled look fleeted across the girl's face, but was soon recovered by her usual nonchalance. She shook her head, and Ikkaku was not wont to press the issue.

_Not as long as it's making her smile._

_-----_

Ishida awoke from a dream. He dreamed that a shinigami—a cool ethereal beauty who saved his life from the poison of Mayuri's sword back in Soul society—had come to earth and saved him again, had brought him home and cured him with magic; with the smoothness of her touch, the tightness of her embrace, the heat of her kiss and the breathless whisper of his name into his ear… a beautiful dream that he wanted to fall asleep and experience the sweetness of again.

Then he turned his head and saw lit in the morning's rays the pitcher of water by his bed, the medicine packed in white paper, and his glasses folded and placed upon a drawer. It all came back to him.

_Not a dream._

He sat up: The warmth in his bed was long gone, but the impression of another body remained, in the futon, in the red marks—scratches of clutching fingers across his chest and shoulders, and a scent not his own, all spoke of the intense throes of pleasure that had taken place here.

Then he saw it, irrefutable evidence of last night's passion: Lying a foot away from his bedding, a length of black ribbon about an inch wide. He picked it up, recalling the scene as he rubbed the silken material with his fingers:

_He sprawled on top of her, muscled legs straddling lithe waist as he leaned into her, hungry lips and greedy hands exploring every inch of her body. He nuzzled against the arch under her neck, licking and grazing teeth on sensitive skin that elicited mews of pleasure, driving him mad with desire. Slick fingers came up from below and deftly undid the ribbon around her neck, the last clothing they had on, and flung it aside haphazardly before he turned his attention to the last patch of unexplored territory._

Lost in the memory, the young Quincy got out of bed and quietly dressed, body falling into the automatic morning routine. He felt refreshed but had no appetite, took some of the supplements with a glass of water, then went to school thirty minutes early as if nothing had ever happened.

But the ribbon remained in his pocket, and from time to time he reached for it and felt for its smooth surface, relishing it.

_She was here, this was hers._

He recalled her words and the passive look on her face.

_"I will stay… but just this one night."_

So what was this? A memento? A reminder of something that they will never share again?

School and the rest of the day flew by without his notice. Then, when it came time to sleep that night, Ishida was struck by how oversized and empty his one-person futon had become.

-----

Nemu walked into her father's lab, dimly lit and filled with pungent fumes of boiling and reacting chemicals as shadowy silhouettes of a few nameless assistants shuffled about. She found him at the surgery table, hands busy taking apart the remains of some Soul Society resident who was, mercifully, already dead; sometimes Mayuri performed autopsies while the subjects were still breathing and conscious.

Realizing the presence of his adjutant, the masked scientist turned around, and Nemu bowed. "I've returned from my mission in the human world, Mayuri-sama."

The masked scientist wiped his gloved hands on a rag seeped in dark red grime. "Did you show off your healing skills to the supervisors like I told you to?"

"Yes." Nemu maintained perfect composure. _I'm not lying—healing Quincy-san did not interfere with carrying out my duty._ Raising her hand, she brushed her fingers against the new ribbon she put on before she came to report in.

Mayuri was none the wiser. "Very well, go to the back room and wait for me there."

Nemu bowed, then headed towards the door in the back of the lab that led to the room which only Mayuri and she ever saw the interior of. She'd been in there many times, was "born" in there, and knew that if the Quincy ever learned of the horrors that took place in there between her and her master…

She stood still before the door, hand rested on the handle to the entrance. She became aware of a faint throbbing in her chest, one that threatened to spread and unsettle her mask of self-possession; it was a strange feeling, sometimes constricting, sometimes stinging, sometimes hollowing… but it grew more intense whenever the events of last night entered her mind, the face of him, his fierce, clear eyes, softened and locked with her own, peering into her soul.

_But I'll never see him again… and he'll never have to know._ With that thought in mind, the throbbing gradually faded, and the familiar numbness that blocked out all feelings returned. Nemu opened the door, stepped into the darkness within, and closed it softly behind her.

**To be Continued**


End file.
